


We Wear Our Scars Like Crowns

by the_ruined_earth_sagelord



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Collars, Hand Jobs, Here we fucking go, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, kinda lmaoo, post coital wtf is this, who makes these tags lol, whoa my first captive prince fanfic yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ruined_earth_sagelord/pseuds/the_ruined_earth_sagelord
Summary: Damen wants to be kinky and Laurent is a little shit about it.Then he fucks Damen's mouth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so I've never written Captive Prince before so sorry if they're at all OOC I'm sO SORRY IT WAS FOR A FRIEND so just be gentle hhhh.
> 
> My friends gave me some prompts from #kinktober and told me to write gay shit so here you fucking go lmao.

 

 

 

 

“Absolutely not.”

Damen lowered the collar with a pout, his fingers sliding over the smooth, stiff leather. “Why not? I think it would prove… _entertaining_.”

Laurent raised one rigid eyebrow, perfectly thin and sharp. “And what’s wrong with our usual ‘entertainment’? You seem fine letting me undo you in my own way.”

Damen grimaced at the jab, but he couldn’t exactly deny it, and he and Laurent both knew it. “True, but I never get to _do_ you the ways _I_ like.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Spare me from the savage customs of a lesser people, Damianos. I thought we were learning civilization over there in Akielos.”

“Mind your tongue,” Damen growled.

“Why, I thought that was your job. You seem to like my tongue, after all.”

Damen sighed heavily, but he couldn’t stop the flush of heat from creeping up his neck. Talking with Laurent was exhausting and dangerous, but damn it if all he wanted was to change things up. Give them some…different options.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be you that’s tied up,” Damen started to say. “You can tie me up and then—”

Both of them froze, and for a terrible moment the words hung sickeningly loud in the close room. They were in Laurent’s quarters at Chastillon, the King’s quarters. It had had been quite some time since the Regent had occupied these rooms, slept in the great bed that dominated the space. Upon returning to Vere after defeating his uncle in Ios, Laurent had burned the actual bed the Regent had used, replacing it with something more modest, though still lavishly enormous.

Slowly, painfully, Damen’s words brought back images of that time. It had been two years, they were both kings now, and they were beginning to merge their councils, moving the ancient enemies of Vere and Akielos back to the united kingdom it had once been, centuries ago.

Yet the fact remained that Damen had once been a slave. To the very man that sat across from him now, high cheekbones flushed lightly, piercing eyes averted, looking anywhere in the room but Damen’s face.

“I didn’t mean to imply,” Damen started, but he stopped himself. “That is, I wasn’t suggesting it to make us… _even_ , or—or anything like that.”

Laurent titled his head. “No, I know you didn’t. The thought never crossed your mind.”

Damen let out a huff of breath. “How would you know that?”

Laurent finally turned his head back to face Damen, and his bright eyes that saw everything caught Damen in their full, sweeping gaze. “Because it never crossed _my_ mind,” Laurent said. “And I’m smarter than you.”

“That’s not fair!”

Laurent’s mouth quirked into a rare smile. “It’s not, but here I am, devastatingly more brilliant than you, making the mistake of putting you in a rather uncomfortable situation full of bad memories—”

“Stop, Laurent.” Damen rose, throwing the collar down. He crossed the room in three long strides, coming to kneel at Laurent’s side. He took one of the pale hands in his own, tawny stone surrounding pale marble, rough hands clasping the only other hands they knew how to hold gently. Laurent stared down into Damen’s uplifted face, each of their eyes searching the other’s. “I know those memories are just as bad for you. Some of them are downright vile. Every day I try to learn more of how I can free you from what he did to you, but…but to do that would mean changing you. Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse. But I don’t want to change you.”

“Like you could,” Laurent said breathlessly, but there wasn’t the usual edge of icy intelligence behind it, and Damen could hear the thin frost snapping.

“Laurent.” His voice was thick. “I’m sorry for bringing any of this up. I don’t want to ruin all the good things we’ve built. Our countrymen, our kingdoms…us.”

“You say it,” Laurent said, rising slowly, dragging his hands along Damen’s jaw to pull him up with him, “as if there is any difference between you and a kingdom, my Akielon barbarian.”

Laurent’s hands were hot on Damen’s jaw, and he remembered how the Veretian king was anything _but_ frigid when Damen had his way. “To me,” Damen said, his words slurring as he felt Laurent against him, their bodies pushing and pulling against each other, “you are the only kingdom worth conquering.”

Laurent suddenly shoved him, pushing him down, and Damen realized Laurent had navigated them through little pushes of his body back across the room, right to the enormous bed. He fell down upon it, the lush sheets silken against his taut forearms. Laurent slid onto the bed, elegant as a viper in everything he did. His gaze roamed over Damen’s body, drinking it in with the eagerness he only showed when they were alone and his frozen walls had lowered.

He slipped one leg over Damen’s waist, and Damen realized the collar had suddenly appeared on Laurent’s neck, the stiff black leather contrasting sharply with his fair skin and hair. His bright, cold eyes watched Damen like he was plotting the next move in a chess game, and maybe he was, and he was already three steps ahead and knew exactly what Damen would say, but Damen accepted it, and even enjoyed for a moment the prospect that Laurent was completely in control even as he pretended to be submissive.

Laurent began to unfasten the ties of his ridiculous Veretian clothing, revealing the smooth skin of a forearm, the hint of a wrist delicately poised and ready. The flush of heat in Damen’s body started to spread. “You don’t have to,” he said, his eyes wandering to the collar.

“I know,” Laurent said, finally ripping his tunic from his body. His hair was a little disheveled, and his eyes sparkled with something dangerous, cunning, _hot_. “I want to.”

Damen’s pulse fluttered, and he surged forward to meet Laurent’s lips with his own, their mouths scrabbling desperately against each other while their hands found each other’s bodies, tracing the lines and curves and bumps they knew like a map. Damen’s fingers worked their way up along Laurent’s sides, sliding lightly over silky skin, brushing over his ribs and pressing against the flat muscles of his stomach, then wandering further up, weaving over his chest and around his shoulders, bunched with tension as Damen knew they would be. His fingers kneaded at Laurent’s back, loosening him. He felt Laurent start to melt under his fingers, the knots in his shoulders disappearing one by one as he slid closer and closer into Damen’s lap, slotting himself into place like he’d been born to fit there.

Then Damen grabbed the curtains that hung from the corners of the bed—really, Veretians were so unnecessarily extravagant—and he took one of Laurent’s wrists, holding it up and tying it to the bedpost. Laurent let it happen with cool grace. He even offered his other arm. Damen tied them both off quietly, then leaned back to admire his work. Laurent lifted his calm, piercing eyes stared back steadily, and Damen lost his breath.

Laurent was _beautiful_.

He knelt on the bed, tied to one of the posts, staring at Damen like a panther. The barest hint of a pink flush in his cheekbones, his pale body stretched out and laid bare for Damen, the muscles of his arms contracting and shifting as he hung by his wrists, waiting for Damen to touch him, the flat skin of his stomach so exposed and lusciously smooth. His pants were opened at the crotch, their ties hanging free, but only enough to suggest the shape of something beneath, and that made the image all the more lascivious in Damen’s mind. He licked his lips, unable to do anything but stare at Laurent.

“Well, Exalted?” Laurent said, using the Akielon title of respect, and it jolted Damen out of his reveries. “Aren’t you going to touch me now that you’ve bound me?”

“You practically bound yourself,” Damen muttered, “when you put on that collar.”

“The collar,” Laurent gasped into Damen’s ear—as Damn drew near to nip at his flesh and tease with his tongue—“was _your_ idea, as I recall.”

Damen hummed into Laurent’s shoulder, kissing the skin there before drawing away again. “Yes, and I think it was an excellent idea. You look good like this.”

“Tied up and at the mercy of a barbarian?”

Damen wrinkled his nose and smiled. “Having fun, I meant.”

The flush under Laurent’s cheekbones spread like wildfire across his face to the back of his neck. “I—” He closed his mouth and didn’t try to answer, and Damen knew he had him. He’d found there was only one way to get the king of Vere completely baffled and without a clever return, and that was when the king of Akielon was in the room with his attention fixed solely on one purpose:

Caring for Laurent like a friend, not just a lover.

Once he’d found that little trick worked wonders in shutting Laurent up, Damen had relished in his newfound ability to actually get a word in edge-wise, and he took advantage of that now.

“You’re beautiful, my king,” Damen whispered. He shifted his position so he was sitting with his legs on either side of Laurent, and he curled his calves around Laurent’s thighs. He grazed his lips over the skin of Laurent’s shoulder, kissing the spot where it joined to his neck, feeling the muscles tensing under his breath. “I’ve said it before, but I want you to understand how much I mean it. How beautiful you really are. You make me weak when I wake to your eyes each morning, your lips so soft under mine.” He grinned into Laurent’s shoulder, biting the skin tenderly. “Even when I know where those lips have been on me.”

He felt Laurent shudder, and a ripple passed through his body too. With Laurent’s hands tied up and unable to guide—or deter—Damen, Damen’s hands began to wander again, tracing each rib, the line between Laurent’s shoulder blades, the sharp V at his waist leading down under his garments. Damen’s mouth wandered too. He kissed Laurent’s neck, dragged his lips and teeth gently over the collarbones. He paid special attention to Laurent’s chest, licking at his nipples and laughing huskily when Laurent stiffened, his back arching and a soft moan escaping him like a breath in Damen’s sails, sweet and steady yet yearning for a full gust to send him over the edge of the world.

“ _Damen_ ,” Laurent hissed, and it was like he ground the word out. Damen paused, his hands wrapped around Laurent’s waist, his fingers tucked into the tight garments to grab at Laurent’s ass, his mouth busy kissing Laurent’s smooth stomach. Hearing his name startled him, and Damen looked up.

Laurent’s face was bright red, a thin sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead. His eyes were hazy, clouded with want. He stared down at Damen, lips parted, breath coming hot and heavy. “Damen,” he whispered again. “You know I don’t like being tormented like this.”

Damen’s eyes widened. Laurent’s habit of trying to contain himself without revealing how close he actually was really did inconvenience Damen sometimes—he could get lost in appreciating Laurent’s body and forget how excited Laurent’s body was apt to become when he _stimulated_ it the way he was doing now.

Damen grinned. “My apologies, Your Highness,” he said. He moved his hands to Laurent’s hips, his fingers curling around the pants that barricaded Damen from what he wanted. “I’ll have to pay my penance for slighting you, Majesty.”

And then he tore the pants apart.

Having little patience for the Veretian style of cage-your-body-into-your-clothes, Damen had spent a week studying the typical clothing of Veretian nobility, learning where the seams came together and were the stitching was weakest. He’d been planning to try this on Laurent for a while now, and he figured there was no better time than when Laurent was tied up and couldn’t stop him, and he went at with vigor.

The muscles in his forearms straining, Damen ripped apart the pants, tearing them from Laurent’s legs. He tossed away the tattered rags left over, and smiled smugly at Laurent. Laurent just stared at him in mild shock, never quite revealing a full expression, but it was still gratifying enough to see that small reaction. Damen grinned. Now Laurent truly looked how Damen had imagined him: tied up, face flushed, clothes torn and hanging from him, and fully erect.

Damen lowered his mouth to kiss Laurent’s flat stomach. He moved his lips further and further down, his chin prickling at the touch of the soft, downy hairs that trailed down Laurent’s lower abdomen. Laurent hissed through his teeth as Damen’s lips moved closer to the heat between his legs, teeth nibbling at Laurent’s thighs, biting little marks into the soft skin.

Laurent squirmed, his breath coming in quick gasps. “Damen,” he huffed. “Stop teasing and just—”

Damen took him into his mouth.

Laurent bucked, his body responding automatically, and Damen rode with him, leaning back so he wouldn’t choke, then adjusting himself to take Laurent deeper. Laurent gasped and moaned, saying words in Akielon that Damen could only barely make out, his hearing impaired by the blood pounding in his temples and the rather distracting weight pressing into his mouth, filling his throat. He focused on his breath, drawing it in through his nose, then working his mouth open wider for Laurent.

Laurent rocked his hips forward, pushing into Damen’s throat. Damen felt tears prick his eyes, but he grinned, breathing deeply and letting Laurent fill his mouth with warmth, feeling so close to the other man he thought he might burst.

“Damen,” Laurent moaned, a warning, his voice tingling across Damen’s skin, and Damen drew off Laurent with a pop, his hand taking his mouth’s place, pumping steadily. He reached up with his other hand and ran his fingers through Laurent’s pale blond hair, starlight in his palm. He kissed Laurent’s neck, his throat, his chest, his clavicle, all of him, his hand still pumping, his lover untangling in his hands.

And then Laurent gasped, his eyes fluttering and his face flushed, breath catching in his throat. He went rigid under Damen’s mouth, and a shudder ran down his body as he released over Damen’s hand, coming apart, spilling over Damen’s arm and legs. He groaned, a low whine that sounded so sweet and innocent it made Damen’s heart ache. And other parts of him twitch.

“Laurent,” he whispered, trailing his lips along Laurent’s jaw. “You look amazing like this. I want to keep you this way forever, mine alone, the property of no man alive, no king in this world but mine.”

“You _are_ a greedy barbarian,” Laurent said, his words slurred, his voice giddy with a pleasing lilt. His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was curled in a smile. “Who says I belong to anyone? Am I prize to be claimed?”

“You are my prize.” Damen’s voice was soft against Laurent’s ear. He reached up and untied the curtains from the bedposts, letting Laurent collapse against him, curling into his arms. “And I am also yours,” Damen said. “My king.”

“You speak so eloquently in bed,” Laurent murmured into Damen’s chest, his fingers trailing the bone of his sternum. “You should take all your dignitaries to bed when you negotiate with them.”

Damen laughed, and it was easy because Laurent was smiling, and then he was laughing too, and the room was quiet beyond the curtains of their ridiculously oversized bed and their laughter was enough to fill the room with life. Damen stared down at Laurent’s face, lacing his fingers through the pale hair. Laurent stared off somewhere beyond, his eyes always searching, and his hands lay absentmindedly on Damen’s chest, his thumb rubbing circles in Damen’s skin.

Laurent’s fingers passed over the scar in Damen’s side, and they stopped there.

At the same moment, Damen’s thumb had gravitated towards the scar on Laurent’s shoulder.

They both grew still. Neither spoke, though Damen felt something pass between them, and he curled himself closer around Laurent, wanting to draw the other as near to him as possible, to shield him from all the world would throw at him as it tried to scar him.

“Don’t get all sappy on me, barbarian,” Laurent said, as if he’d read Damen’s mind. Of course he had. There was nothing Damen could keep from Laurent. Nothing he would want to.

“I don’t want you getting emotionally unstable on me when we’re in the middle of fucking,” Laurent said, twisting in Damen’s arms. He smirked, his fingers hovering dangerously close to Damen’s pants. “I still need to return the favor, _Exalted_.”

Damen caught Laurent’s hands in his own. “You don’t need to, Laurent. Tonight was about you.”

Laurent scoffed. “That was about you getting to gawk at me tied up, and you know it. Besides,” he said in a lower, conspiratorial voice. “The night isn’t nearly over yet.”

Damen grinned, and together they rolled over in bed, happy just to be in each other’s arms.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *bows*
> 
> legendarysagehalfblood.tumblr.com come scream to me about royal gays


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